Expulsion
by NaruHina97
Summary: This story follows the travels of one individual as he trudges through the unknown... Unfortunate circumstances block his path, but the friends of a lifetime help ease the burden. Contains OC, set with the original survivors for now. No lemons, but adult themes may apply later on.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1, Manhattan State Jail

I had woken up not too long ago to a loud metallic banging noise just outside my confines. Ah, yes, I was in jail. I took a glance over to my left arm, sighing in thought as it morphed a sickly green, molding into a crimson blade, and then back to my regular hand.

Before the whole "apocalypse" happened, I was a demographic laboratory theorist. Eight long years of schooling, all in order to study the behavior in Homo sapiens, both by themselves and in populations of all sizes. I was analyzing the studies done by urban professors regarding the crime to economy relationship when what I believed to be a marvelous idea occurred to me. In areas where violent crime was next-to-none, the economy flourished, even with high rates of non-violent crimes. Even more-so than other areas where non-violent crimes exceeded the standard for that population and location.

It struck me like a ton of bricks, a fortress of insight careening upon me. Humans were the only noticeable species on the planet known to express wild, random, and unexpected outburst of vile anger and blood thirst. If this trait, this corrupt gene were to somehow be "removed" from our DNA... It was the breakthrough of the millennium, as simple as it was. Modifying the human RNA sequence to enforce evolutionary change into our species was thought to be impossible. Improbable. Asinine. Wasn't landing on extraterrestrial bodies such as the moon once thought of in this manner? If I had only knew how idiotic I sounded then when I see what I know now...

It worked. Worked like a charm. The genetically engineered virus I made, the Subdued Insidious Virus, or the S.I.V., was meant to change humanity, for the better. It changed humanity alright... It completely fucked the code over, if you could call it that. The virus was designed to target, minimize and or eliminate the Chaos Gene, the section of genetic code responsible for our outbursts of unsightly behavior. Due to moral dilemmas and conflicts, I was forced to be Patient Zero.

The virus, in aqueous form, was injected on January 1, 2025 as a memorial to the beloved "New Age", as well as the 75th anniversary of the founding of Astorus, the company in which I developed my Pandora's concoction. Others would have called it "research", but those people are dead now. In any case, the shot showed no signs in the beginning. No dramatic changes, no behavioral altercations. I was never a violent person to begin with, so how they were going to observe a change was beyond me...

It wasn't until three months later until something occurred. A colleague of mine and a favored lab associate came down with a terrible sickness. Immobile, he was the pale of insanity itself in his deathbed. No one could have linked this to the S.I.V., so it was blown off as an unfortunate happening. It wasn't until five nurses and two other patients in the hospital where he was staying at were mauled during the night did someone take notice that something was off.

It was all over the news. "Deranged patient assaults local residents of a hospital." The victims started showing similar signs, each beginning at different rates. With twenty-four hours, 119 individuals had been attacked by these psychotic and mindless assailants, resulting in a full-blown quarantine lockdown and an investigation conducted by the FBI itself. Ooh, case closed, right? Hell, I bet half of the globe wished that right about now...

I digress; I'm getting ahead of myself. No, due to the three month delay in the virus activation, it had time to mutate, become not what it was meant to be. It became airborne, and all the areas I had visited within the initial time period had been infected with the virus by me, just by simply being alive. The S.I.V. underwent a metamorphosis in not only transportation, but also in purpose. It didn't destroy the Chaos Gene. It nourished it, encouraged it. By the time the military realized it was a problem worth their attention, it was too late. The infection spread like wildfire, infecting town after town, city after city until in a mere two weeks America and half of Asia were lost to the "Green Flu".

It turns out that before it took over half the globe, my fellow scientists managed to place the blame upon my virus, and thusly myself. Placed on death row accused of genocide, 'cause I totally planned the damn thing to screw up, I was left to rot away until sentenced to death. Ha, that would have been funny had not the infection completely wiped out the town, including all judges, police, and any individual who wished my demise. Which was a lot of individuals, considering my accusation was deemed as national knowledge that the entire public needed to know.

So here I am, sitting in this jail cell, unable to voice my displeasure at the incessant banging noise coming from outside my confines. There's no one to talk to after all. In any case, I decided that sitting on my butt would solve nothing, and that looking outside might lead to something interesting. I was hungry after all...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2, Hellzone

I looked around my cold, damp cell, peering around to see if there was anything worth scavenging. Some toilet paper, a blanket, a bed... I didn't even have a canteen for water. Lovely... I had heard on the news that the East Coast fell five days ago. No contact. No reception. That meant that any official pre-existing government had been overrun by the infection. No help there. Not that a notorious criminal like myself was going to receive assistance from those bipolar bastards...

After sufficiently scouring my container for anything worth taking, (Next to nothing; even the clothes on my back were in terrible condition.) I looked around as I prepared to leave. The banging had stopped. It grew quieter, the echoes becoming fainter sigh each passing moment. It gave me an unsettling feeling, like Death itself had seeped throughout the jail, silencing all living creatures...

*Loud Gunshot*

"Who's there?!" I yell off into the corridors. Zombies didn't use firearms the last I checked. Hopefully. I shudder at that last thought, brushing off unneeded worries. Zombies were mindless after all, and even if you gave one a gun, it'd probably gnaw on it before it shot itself. Chuckling at the amusing prospect, I calm my noise when I hear approaching footsteps. I'm not as lucky as my Native American ancestors, or at least the Hollywood versions, so I can't tell exactly how many humans (hopefully) were approaching. Judging by the slow, weary march of steps, I can say with confidence that there's at least a small group.

"Hello? Anyone out there...?"

...

No response. Just as I was about to call again, a series of automatic gunfire goes off nearby, followed by the unmistakable horrid sound of flesh collapsing onto the floor. Jeez, I hope these people weren't just going around killing the criminals left in here... That would spell disaster for a certain someone. I may be decent in close combat because of the infection, but I don't stand a chance against a bullet... Damn things hurt. Terribly so.

"Who's there? If you're alive, speak up!"

The mysterious newcomer sounded female, if the feminine tone was anything to go by. Oh well, what's the worst that could happen?

"Hey, come over here! I'm stuck behind this wall of bars... Kind of sucks..."

I trail off, hoping to sound as remorseful as possible. After all, it was broadcasted on national news of who had caused this mess, so, if I acted pathetic, maybe they wouldn't shoot me on sight. Or recognize me. I hadn't been able to bathe in God knows how long. Accursed warden...

A young lady, probably in her mid-twenties stepped into view. Short, thin, wearing a blazing red jacket coupled with navy blue pants and supporting what seems to be a sniper rifle from a glance. (How the hell did she even get one of those in civilian quarters?)

"Hey, what are you in here for?" She asks me. Hrm, interesting... Seems like she'll only let me out if I did something that wasn't that bad... Three other men step into view behind her. All relatively the same height, taller than the lady but shorter than me, one was what appeared to be the cliché biker stereotype, leather jacket and all. Another seemed out of place, with a dirty white shirt and a crimson tie barely hanging from his neck. The third individual, the leader judging by posture, was an older man in... Was that a Vietnam wartime uniform? That would explain why he took charge in an apocalypse like this one.

"Hey, the lady asked you a question!" Biker slammed a crowbar against the chimes that detained me, setting off a loud ringing noise that only helped to worsen my migraine. Screw him...

"Calm down Francis. Hey, what's your name?" The lady struck a chord in this "Francis", causing him to back down. Thank you angel sent from heaven.

I coughed before speaking, to clear my throat and add dramatic effect.

"Hello, and welcome to my humble home. My name is Artemis Teardrop, and I am glad to make your acquaintance." I bowed low, hoping that my kind gesture would be appealing in the eyes of my would-be saviors.

I looked up from my position and straighten after gauging their reactions. The Army vet nodded slightly, probably surprised that a criminal such as me would have any manners. The Office individual appeared indifferent to the situation, his mind elsewhere, and Francis just sneered. Asshole.

"Son, what do they have you locked up in here for?"

The veteran stepped up past the young girl and looked me straight in the eyes, wary and ragged, searching like a priest facing a demon, attentive in order to spot any hint of deception.

"Sir, my detainment is unfortunately due to the accidental manslaughter of four poor souls. I was a train conductor before this, and I didn't notice a vehicle on the tracks until it was too late. I've been detained here for about a week now, but I'm no newcomer to what's been happening outside. I heard that the infection had taken over almost the entire East Coast."

"Try the entire west-fucking-hemisphere." This Biker guy was starting to grate on my nerves...

I glared at the intruder for a brief moment. "In any case," I resumed, "I would appreciate it very much if you would free this detainee. My court date is long past due, and I think that would mean that it has been suspended indefinitely." I tried to sound reasonable, but the lady seems wary to let me out, and the veteran seems to be contemplating the worth of my freed existence.

The old man grumbled for a while, speaking to himself in what might as well been a foreign language.

"Let him out Louis. He looks alright."

I hold back my overjoyed emotions, keeping them in check until I was actually freed. Wouldn't want to give the group any reason why they should change their minds. The African American (because I'm politically correct) man identified as "Louis" walked over and obtained the key to my cell from just out of my sight. Maybe the warden collapsed or was infected? Oh well, not my problem. Only after he set the key in the lock and clicked it open did I allow myself to grin. I was a free man. Well, to a degree. They all did have weapons...

"There, now why don't you run along back to your trains, boy?" I swear if this Francis guy didn't learn to keep his mouth shut, I would send him to Hell in a hand-basket.

Weary because of a lack of nourishment, my first couple of steps out into the jail corridor were sloppy, dazed. I looked over to the other three pleadingly, hoping that pity and sympathy still existed in this godforsaken world.

"Would you all mind if I… tagged along for a while? Until I get my bearings of course." I threw that last part in because of the distain that crossed some of their faces. Only the young lady seemed truly sympathetic to my situation.

After a long drag on a cigarette, the war veteran said the best words I've heard in weeks; "Alright, but the moment you step out of line, Louis here will send you back here." Louis reloaded his shotgun as emphasis. Oh yes, I got the message. Lovely...

Stretching my arms and hearing too many cracks for someone of my age, (late twenties thank you; not all scientists are archaic) I joined the ranks of this small squad, following them through the corridors, along darkened passages, and out into the light. Oh, right, I mean Hell.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3, Downtown

Walking out into the bright sunlight was a painful experience. Couldn't they have saved me at night or something? Suppose I'm not in a position to be picky though... Looking around, I can see a dramatic difference in the state of things than just a mere week ago. It was iconic. Destroyed cars littered the streets, some crushed by chucks of brittle building that fell during the military's failed siege against the infected city. Manhattan was now officially a Red Zone. I wondered briefly how many survivors were scattered throughout the ruins, desperate for guidance or the faintest amount of help. A shame, really...

"So, Artemis, are you immune?" The war veteran got straight to the point, didn't he?

"I wouldn't know." I lied. I knew I was immune, but they didn't need to know I was Patient Zero. "I haven't been bitten yet."

"We heard it became airborne on the news before the station was taken over." This lady has been nothing but helpful. Kudos to her. That's a pretty difficult attitude to have during the apocalypse.

"Hrm..." I mumble, contemplating. "Well, I believe I have properly introduced myself. Won't you all give me the same luxury?" I look about questioningly. Despite them calling each other by name, I knew nothing about any of them. Knowledge is power, so I might as well get to know them.

The veteran again took the lead. "The name is Bill." Wow, wasn't that an exhausting introduction.

Next was the young lady. Suppose she felt compelled to follow suite. "I'm Zoey, nice to meet you." I shook her hand, instantly smiling in a common courtesy not exchanged often enough.

"Name's Francis." I didn't even look at the guy before he started. I see the other man look at him in distain. He must have been waiting to go next. I chuckle in mirth. How childish. A rivalry during times like these? I suppose everyone gets through the day somehow.

"Hello, my name is Louis. It's nice to meet you." The man confidently shook my hand, a charismatic approach about him. Guess it's the years of probable business rubbing off on him.

I yawned, looked about the city, and then back at the group. "Well, since all that's out of the way, where are you all headed?"

Bill spoke up. "We were traveling southward. Heard on the radio that there were regions the infection hasn't reached due to the swampland. Apparently zombies can't swim."

Well then, it seems like we're heading south. Brilliant. I gave a questioning glance to the weapons blatantly displayed by each survivor. After all, I couldn't fight using the... "Benefits" the infection granted me. They'd shoot me on the spot, sentient or not...

No one got the message. Sighing, I supposed that I could just improvise when the time came. No one said a little improvising was bad, right? Psh, only our lives on the line...

And thus, this little odd group and I began our journey to paradise. Well, as close to paradise as one could get in the zombie apocalypse.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4, Silent Streets

Looking up at the gruesome sight above me, I can't really say I was surprised.

It had taken us a whopping two minutes to encounter our first (well, my first) official zombie. She wasn't really that impressive, considering how Francis beheaded her Red-Rover style with a crowbar almost as soon as she showed up. I mean, I think that's how these people are even alive. They've made the goddamned apocalypse into a game.

"Goooooooooooooaaaa-ugh!" Francis is cut off by a curt elbow to the gut, thanks to Bill.

"Shut your trap Francis. Do you want the horde to assault our location?" Bill's reprimanding tone kept Francis from making a retort.  
Louis patted the down biker on the shoulder before continuing on past him.

We walked for a couple minutes along straightforward streets before Zoey broke the silence.

"So... Artemis..." I looked back at her, curiously piqued at what she might have to say or ask.

"Yes, Miss Zoey?" I beckon her onwards, thankful for the human interaction. It was better than talking to my subconscious all the time...

She blushed slightly, but it might have been mistaken as her skin reacting to a particularly vicious winter breeze. I didn't have time to ponder too far into it before she continued.

"What was your life like before the infection?" Zoey asked, innocently enough. Damn it, I knew this was going to happen, and yet I didn't think of a story to say. All I've said so far was that my occupation was that of a train conductor, so I guess I have a near-blank slate to work with.

I sighed, looking at my reflection in a run-down store window. I looked horrendous. The infection and my time in jail had done quite the odd number on my appearance. I've been living for 29 long, dreary years, yet I look like I still belonged in a high school. My face was slim, all the stress lines of my scientific endeavors gone along with the nasty scar that spanned my forehead from a lab accident. No wonder they didn't recognize me. I looked like I did when I was in my late teens. I shudder, hoping this was only an outer change. I did NOT want to relieve puberty.

I looked away from the cracked image, buying time to think as we walked down the street. I looked to the sky, a deep blue with scattered clouds overhead.

"My life before the infection was... Uneventful, to say the least." I glanced over to Zoey, only to find her and Louis listening to what I have to say. Bill was focused on the path ahead, but I wouldn't put it past him to be eavesdropping. I didn't care what Francis was doing at the moment.

"What do you mean by that? Surely you've some stories to tell. We all do." Louis interjected politely, sounding cheerful. You'd think I was depressed or something, and that he was my counselor.

I continued on, despite the comment. "No, I honestly was a wall flower of an individual. A nonexistent love-life coupled with a tremendous amount of relocating made my attempts at forming relations with anyone outside my workplace futile." It wasn't entirely untrue. The life of a scientist is lonely sometimes...

My little audience seemed less than satisfied by my vague answer, but neither seemed to have the nerve to call me out on it.

A shrill shriek soared through the air, a knife to our ears. I looked around to locate what the hell that was, but the cries of my new-found "ally" caught my attention first.

"Hunter! Everybody cover up; don't let it get a chance!" Francis looked about as fumbled his metal weapon from hand to hand, nervous with anticipation.

What the heck was a "hunter"...?

I wish I had never asked that question.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5, Stalker

Along the buildings a black, hooded figure sped with breakneck speed. What moves like that? Its horrid shout filled the air with each bound, signaling its approach.

"Rhhhaaaaaaaawwghhh!"

It was terrible. I stood, dumbfounded in fascination as this entity leapt toward me. It sounded so... Angry. Filled with chaos and hatred. For what? And why? These questions were the last thoughts I was able to conjure before the being, this... "Hunter", pounced forcibly onto my torso, effectively tackling me to the ground.

"Hold still!" Wait, wha-

*Excruciating Gunshot Blast*

My ears ringed with an unholy frequency, pain steadily building within my mind as my migraine came back with a vengeance. It took me a couple of seconds to even realize the hunter wasn't upon me anymore, but rather slung to the side.

"Hey, are you alright?" A faint whisper, like the trickles of a misty morning, filled my ears. I rolled my head to the side, painfully so, and saw an unexpected sight. Zoey, hand held outstretched towards me, the other occupied by a smoking sniper rifle, the barrel tip still red from the shot.

In a daze, I took her hand, muttered misguided thanks, and looked around. How long had that whole transaction taken place? A couple of seconds perhaps? A minute or two? It felt like hours had traveled by, unheeded by the behavior of the regular flow of time. It felt strange... I guess this was what life or death situations were like... Exhilarating and horrifying at the same time.

I turned around to examine the attacker. His- or its? - waist was nearly severed from its body. Then the smell hit me. The horrid scent of rancid flesh... It was a hot, humid, disgusting corpse. I would have gagged, but my exposure to corpses in the lab has more than deadened any gag reflex I may have once had.

Shuffling steps alerted me that I was no longer within the group. I glance up, the other survivors already resuming the trek. Wow... They must see this all the time... I shake my head in disappointment at how far our world has fallen. Now isn't the time for reminiscing though, considering the others are gesturing for me to hurry up. Guess they would know best...

Discarding all interest in the hunter corpse, I jogged up beside Zoey and slowed to a walking pace. Odd... Despite being mere feet away from the incident, this young lady has no scent about her to suggest that she just came into contact with a horrid monster. I sniff at my clothes, instantly regretting my decision. I smelled like a garbage truck. Damn it...

We killed (well, they killed and I watched) some scattered common infected before coming to a bright crimson door, complete with an iron bar window. "Safe Room" was sketched beside it along the brick wall. I wonder if might be a sick joke or a trap lay by other nefarious survivors...

Louis goes to unlatch the door. "Great, we made it." He smiles in relief.

"Don't get too comfortable Louis." Bill cautioned. Well, sounds like someone's going to get ulcers one day, if he doesn't already have the accursed ailment. Although, in this day and age, I guess you couldn't blame him. I'm just glad we found a place to rest. The sun is beginning to set in the distance, and I've NO intentions of sleeping outside with zombies I can't even combat during the day.

We file in, one by one, and Francis shuts the door behind us, slamming the steel bar down afterwards. Zoey manages a poor glare at the lack of grace or concern. I went to make a remark about his brutish tendencies, but I deemed it wise not to piss of someone with a crowbar.

"Let's all get some sleep. Francis, Zoey, Louis; you know the drill. Wrap this up quick."

I looked at Bill in confusion. To have developed a systematic way of going about things in just a mere two weeks was impressive... And that's assuming this bunch got together at the beginning of the infection.

"Since you're new here, we'll let you sleep the first night. Next time though, you're taking a shift." Bill placed his hand on my shoulder firmly, deterring any objections. Not that I had any. It was only fair I did my part if I was to travel with this troop.

With Zoey taking first watch, I fell asleep feeling assured and protected. Warding off the memories of today, I slipped into a restful slumber.

*Time Skip*

I peeked one eye open, sleepy and inattentive. Why was I awake? It was still dark outside... I looked around to see what might have woken me up, but I was just met with the sight of Francis sitting by the door, pistol in hand. Guess Louis let him borrow one for the time being...

He jerked over suddenly, disturbed by something outside. I rose up, trying to get a glance at whatever might be on the other side of the door. Then it hit me. Someone was crying... Sorrow penetrated the air, and two red eyes began to shuffle towards the crimson gate...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6, Mortal Combat

Francis looked about in concern. What was all the commotion about? I've never heard of an infected crying, so that had to mean whoever was stuck out there was a survivor. I shuffled over to the guardsman, hoping not to scare him into shooting me on accident.

Luckily he heard my approach, but he didn't spare me even a second glance. "What's going on? Is somebody outside?" I whispered quietly, hoping not to arouse the others. The moaning continued, but the red eyes had stopped their advance and disappeared.

If I didn't know better, I would have thought Francis looked tired. Brown eyes, ancient and weary, looked about our room in contempt, like it had done him some wrong on this night. He blinked, and the arrogant biker was back.

He walked over to Bill and shook his shoulder, signaling with his finger to stay silent. The dread that overcame the young biker not a moment ago flashed across the veterans face. What was going on? Had they encountered other survivors before and left them to die? Is that what this was all about? My face scrunched in thought, seeing as how they saved me conflicted with my previous conclusion.

Slowly, the other people in our group were woken up. Louis seemed groggy, and I guessed he had the last shift before Francis. Zoey... She was almost twitchy. I would even go as far as to say hyperactive. I suppose surviving on sugary rations and less than enough sleep would do that to you. Poor girl... She looked like a machine not put together completely, abandoned mid-way.

A sense of cold disposition entered the room. It took me a moment to figure out why, but considering the positions of the other four, it was easy enough to deduce. I, being closest to the door, had my back to the barred window, but I would bet my backside I knew what was behind me, if the stern faces in front of me were anything to go by. I would have sighed, but who knows what was behind my back.

My vision had adjusted to the dark; the dim moonlight illuminated every aspect of the safe room. I tilted my head ever so slightly to the left, and my ears were filled with a dreadful silence. The kind of silence you get when Santa doesn't come to town, or when you find yourself staring into a set of crimson, glowing eyes and a pair of nasty, sharper than steel looking claws clenched around the metal bars of a safe room window. It looked female, with matted white hair, patchy in some areas. Her cries became solemn whimpers, devoid of any human warmth.

"Why...? Why do I have to be alone...?" The young girl cried out, her voice rising in volume. Her sobs became louder, louder, and louder still. Her sad face turned into one of anger, her petite face warping itself in the rage of a thousand suns.

"WHHHHHYYY!?"

The yell shattered my eardrums, the ringing already setting in. The witch violently tore and clawed at the door, fighting as though we did her some unfathomable wrong.

I jerked towards the survivors, but all I met was barrels. Four barrels of death aimed at my head, and subsequently, the girl's. Shocked at this drastic change of events, I turned to race the still raging girl. So angry...

"WHY?! It's your entire FAULT!"

What? Shaking my head, I decided that this was enough. So much rage in such a tiny individual was unnecessary. She was right though, it was my fault. I began the infection, and turned her into... This. Resolve in hand, I decided that there was no reason that these kind people behind me had to pay for my mistakes. I laugh; it's a bit late for that, isn't it? My eerie shrills of laughter caught the young girl off guard. She stopped. Frozen in place; a victim, a monster, transformed by the demon in front of her.

I scoffed at her gesture. This only seemed to infuriate her further. Sparing one last glance towards the group, I did something that I probably should have thought through.

I opened the heavy red gate and stepped out to meet her head on.

Never mind the claws.

Shrug off those fierce eyes.

Ignore the sound of the metal door slamming shut behind me, sealing me with this banshee.

Her roar was so furious... The agony present in her voice sent chills running along my skin.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7, Breakdown

"Why...? Why do I have to be alone...?" The young girl cried out, her voice rising in volume. Her sobs became louder, louder, and louder still. Her sad face turned into one of anger, her petite face warping itself in the rage of a thousand suns.

"WHHHHHYYY!?"

I jumped in fright, falling on my back as the shriek escaped her lips. I stood as her expression returned to one of grief, looking on at her silver face, tears cascading down her face. Red veins clouded my vision, hoarding my rational thoughts just out of reach. This was ridiculous...

"Unacceptable!" I roared at the female, arms raised in objection.

The small girl shed another salty tear, growling at me for my outburst. She looked fierce and shy at the same time, defiant eyes betrayed by her long, slender fingers wrapped around her thin torso.

A small sniff of the fragrance that enveloped me stopped me. That's what broke me. I dropped my arms, defeated. A step. A growl. Two steps closer, now only a couple feet between us. Her knees bent, eyes locked with mine, a predator prepared for anything.

The next couple of steps were covered in a blur, and the tension multiplied and vanished in a matter of heartbeats. I held her fragile body in my arms, careful to not make her uncomfortable. She tensed for a moment, but relaxed into the embrace. I could see it in her eyes before they closed. A smile graced her lips, and she leaned into my body.

Warmth. All she wanted was someone to care. To have empathy, acceptance, and understanding with how hard it was to be alone for as long as she had.

The embrace lasted but only a fleeting few seconds. The brush of a nearby park enveloped her small frame, the bloody claws vanishing from view. I swore I could still see her glowing eyes in sight, two beacons of hope. I closed my eyes and breathed a breath I didn't know I was in dire need of. Forgetting to breath can kill you, did you know that?

The soft scent of lavender was in the air. Strange...

Minutes passed. It felt like an eternity, stewing in the pungent emotions lingering in the air. I turned to face the four survivors, but I was met with a shocking sight. Three barrels aimed down at my head, and a crowbar held at the ready.

I slowly raised my hands in defense. "What's with all the sudden hostility? And who or what was that?" I gestured towards the forest with my thumb, careful not to make any sudden movements that might invoke unneeded wrath.

Thankfully, the weapons were lowered at Bill's command. He stepped up to the window, roughly gesturing me inside in the process. I stepped up and opened the gate, only to be promptly shoved by Francis. Backstabber. I landed roughly against the brick wall of the safe room. What's his problem? I looked back and forth, from Bill to the other three. "Would anybody like to, oh, I don't know, say something perhaps? It would be awfully lovely to know why I almost had my head blown off...!" I hiss the last part, both to not attract infected and so I don't give them any reason to pull their arms out again.

Louis sighed and reclined back to where he was before this incident, and Francis returned to his chair by the door. Bill cast one more watchful glance out into the streets before his archaic self-slipped into slumber upon one of the many make-shift beds in the safe room. All three of them appeared to be relaxed, but I could feel their steely gaze upon my shoulders. Zoey was the only one to give me any closure, casting an empathetic look in my direction before sitting beside me.

"That was no survivor. We call that type of infected a Witch."

"A witch? Pardon me if I sound a tad confused." I glanced over at her, curious as to what she might say regarding that pale young lady.

"Just like all other infected, witches are incapable of rational thought. Fortunately, and unfortunately, there are some things that set the witch apart from any other infected type. For starters, as you saw, she has distinct characteristics. The most noticeable being her long claws and fluorescent eyes."

I nodded, but I raised an eyebrow; I was still slightly lost regarding her description. How was she incapable of rational thought? The "witch", as she called it, had clearly spoken not a couple minutes ago. I don't understand. I thought speech was the height of higher levels of thought. And what of the emotions she displayed? Surely that wasn't my imagination? I didn't think I was that careless...

"Uh... Zoey, I hate to break it to you, but that "witch" spoke. Very clearly, might I add?" My tone conveyed a sense of degradation, but I meant nothing by it. I was just a bit miffed that she thought that it didn't say anything. I'm pretty sure the flashes of ringing in my ears were caused by words, not unintelligible grunts.

Zoey looked at me with a sense of suspicion. Didn't she hear what the young lady said? I refuse to call her a witch. The title seems so... Unfitting. She's more like a snowflake; cold, lost, and only wanting a friend.

"Artemis... I think you should rest. You don't seem to have gotten used to coping with life and death situations. Zoey looked at me with concern, something I would think to be rare in this world nowadays.

"You're a fool." I glared at Bill for a moment, but soon Zoey's passive voice brought me back.

"That witch didn't talk. It shrieked. Just like they always do. And you should be surprised you made it out alive, considering your actions out there. Go to sleep." She pressed a hand to my torso, laying me down by the wall. I didn't fight it, considering the adrenaline was wearing off... God was I tired...

I looked around the safe room one last time. Zoey decided to resume her bout of slumber on the only bed in the room. It was unneeded to declare the most comfortable place to sleep went to Zoey. Considering all the things she does for us men, she deserved it more than all of us combined. We would have probably murdered each other by the first day had she not been there...

Francis returned to his post by the gate, alert and at the ready. Bill already fell asleep, a half-lit cigarette hanging from his aged lips. Lastly, I looked over to see the current state of our office man. Louis was sound asleep, using his bag for a pillow. One would think he's done this before...

My eyelids slipped close ever so slowly, draping over the faint peaks of sunlight poking over the horizon...


End file.
